Epeisodion 1
CHOROS.
But now, these words to hear, and sate my wonder
Thoroughly, I am fain — if twice thou tell them.
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Troia do the Achaioi hold, this same day.
320
I think a noise — no mixture — reigns i’ the city.
Sour wine and unguent pour thou in one vessel —
Standers-apart, not lovers, wouldst thou style them:
And so, of captives and of conquerors, partwise
The voices are to hear, of fortune diverse.
325
For those, indeed, upon the bodies prostrate
Of husbands, brothers, children upon parents
— The old men, from a throat that ’s free no longer,
Shriekingly wail the death-doom of their dearest:
While these — the after-battle hungry labour,
330
Which prompts night-faring, marshals them to breakfast
On the town’s store, according to no billet
Of sharing, but as each drew lot of fortune.
In the spear-captured Troic habitations
House they already: from the frosts upmethral
335
And dews delivered, will they, luckless creatures,
Without a watch to keep, slumber all night through.
